Page 38 of A Tenuous Betrothal
“How could the previous customer abandon such a dress?” Rhi loved it, and when the modiste had brought it forward as a possibility, she’d asked for it right away. The other dresses would take time, but this one was able to be finished in just a couple of days.
Sophie stood, and Rhi joined her. As they linked arms, they turned to Prince Marc, who witnessed the whole of their exchange about Rhi’s gown.
“We shall be occupied for the entire afternoon, and we expect you to be ready this evening to be appropriately awed at the base of the stairs and take our hands when we descend together,” Rhi outwardly joked, but the moment was important to her all of a sudden. In absence of her parents, someone needed to be at the base of those stairs.
“Oh yes, that is my favorite part,” Sophie said. Then she whispered so only Rhi could hear, “My Bartholomew lights right up. Makes me happy every time.”
Prince Marc bowed. “I would not miss such an honor.” He cleared his throat. “And you have not forgotten we share the first set with our hosts?” His eyes were earnest, humble, and hopeful.
“I have not forgotten,” she said. “I’m afraid it will be my favorite set, and then what of the rest of the evening? Nothing else will compare.”
Prince Marc laughed. “That is exactly what I have been thinking.”
The ladies turned and made their way out the door and up the stairs together.
There did seem to be something different in the prince’s behavior, but could Sophie be right? “Besotted?” She said and shook her head. “I cannot think it so.”
“But it can be nothing else.”
“More likely it is only guilt. He’s not doing his duty by his father, so when he looks at me, it is with hope for my happiness, to please his father.” Rhi’s answer made sense to her, but she secretly wished at least a part of the prince was besotted or, if not quite so interested, perhaps at least intrigued. Or impressed. She’d love to earn his respect.
She and Sophie spent the whole of the afternoon as predicted, recreating French hairstyles, cinching stays, attaching extra pieces of lace to gowns, and laughing more than Rhi had in years. They had the maids in on their antics, and as a whole, they made such a jolly memory that Rhi didn’t want to spoil it by going to the ball.
But when they were at last finished and standing together in front of Sophie’s large mirror, she became excited anew to attend, and she most anticipated their slow walk down the stairs and her dance with Prince Marc. Perhaps her feelings were girlish, but she couldn’t help herself, especially after the last time he’d met her at the base of the stairs. She needed a new memory.
Even if Prince Marc did not want more to do with her than to help her, that could be enough. It might have to be. She still wished to see if she could light up his eyes like Sophie described in Bartholomew. She’d read enough books to know that men could sometimes see a woman and not be able to look away. This was the test: could she capture a man in such a way? Could she capture the prince in that way? He was more admirable than most.
But unless he, too, wished for an attachment, all efforts to capture him would be wasted. She’d best focus on her most urgent need, which was to marry someone who could save them all—servants, miners, and herself. She huffed out a breath. Much rode on her shoulders.
Rhi’s dress was of the deepest blue. She could not wish for white. It was too pale, not vivid enough, not deep enough. She felt a passion for life that was not expressed very well through a plain white dress. The blue changed the color of her skin almost. It was a wonderful shade for her hair as well. Rhi wondered if the prince would find her fetching in it.
Sophie wore a soft pink, and the two of them together matched perfectly, each color enhancing the other. They linked arms again.
With high energy, high hopes, and happiness about bubbling over, Rhi made her way with Sophie to the top of the stairs.
“You look beautiful,” Sophie whispered. “You must trust me. You can be as selective as you wish. Choose the best man, the very best, for yourself.”
“The women of thetonare all beautiful, fashionable, and just as lovely.”
“I am only saying you must be aware of your strengths. I’ll be so proud to help you fend off the undesirables and reel in the catch.” She laughed, and Rhi thought it ridiculous enough that she joined her.
She was just like everyone else. She always had been. She and her parents had worked hard with their employees’ families to build a successful business. They had earned their love and respect. The workers, the servants, and the townsfolk had given her attention, but she knew it was mostly because of her father. Sophie would see. People responded to Rhi rather mildly.
When they approached the top of the stairs, Sophie’s hold on Rhi’s arm tightened, and they almost teetered over the edge together.
No one was at the bottom waiting for them, and for a moment, Rhi thought they were going to descend with no audience. But then the two broad-shouldered men stepped around the corner, and Prince Marc stopped. His eyes met hers, and everything around them went still. His jaw worked, but no sound came. Then he fairly leaped up the stairs. With his face only inches from her own, she drank in his expression. He reached for her hand and tucked it under his arm so that it was not just resting on his arm but tucked up against him. They descended in silence, but something about the accompanied descent felt important. With the prince escorting her, Rhi felt every bit a princess. Bartholomew joined Sophie, and soon both couples were at the base of the stairs.
“Thank you.” Rhi wasn’t certain how to act with this new version of Prince Marc.
“It’s an honor, Miss Davies.” His smile was small, his eyes sincere, and she suddenly felt incredibly important. He stood closer than was typical and led her toward the entry hall, carefully adjusting his body so they both fit through the front door. He steadied her as they walked down the steps, and he held her hand for as long as possible when he helped her into the carriage. When they were all settled, he sat as close as possible.
Bartholomew and Sophie seemed not to notice, as they were in their own romantic world. Rhi watched them with interest. With eyes for only each other, they were obviously deeply in love. And she almost reconsidered her plan to find the most wealthy, influential person she could to marry. Perhaps she should also fall in love.
Prince Marc chuckled.
She turned to him, his face close to hers, the air between them seeming to draw them together. His eyes were full of questions and enjoyment. “I’m looking forward to your debut in London Society.”
“You are?”
